Chapter 55 Nightmare
Aelira’s POV
Get 10
Menu
The shadows of the Briarhallow family den close in around me as I lie stiffly on my side of the enormous bed. Even though the mattress is plush
and inviting, sleep refuses to come.
Beside me, Daelor’s calm, rhythmic breathing fills the quiet. His distinct scent–a blend of Alpha pheromones and the lingering moon sage from his
earlier shower–intensifies in the hushed air.
I adjust my position once more, trying to settle in a way that doesn’t make me so hyperaware of his proximity. The thin sheet separating us feels laughably insufficient.
“Having trouble sleeping?” Daelor’s deep voice slices through the stillness,
catching me off guard.
I freeze, slightly mortified that my tossing has woken him. “Sorry.”
“Is the bed bothering you?” he asks, amusement lacing his tone.
“It’s fine,” I murmur, tugging the covers more snugly around me. “Just
getting used to it.”
The bed creaks softly as he shifts, and the heat from his body seems to stretch across the space between us. Beneath my skin, my wolf stirs,
uneasy in the presence of his dominant Alpha energy.
“I could tell you a story to help you sleep,” he offers, his voice tinged with
playful sarcasm.
12:27
27.37%
<Chapter 55 Nightmare
Get 10
My face burns at the suggestion, thankful that the darkness hides my
reaction.
“I’m okay,” I reply quickly, turning away from him and curling tightly. “Goodnight.”
#Menu
“Goodnight, little wolf,” he says, and the nickname sends an unexpected quiver through my chest.
Inside me, my wolf lets out a low whine, unusually agitated despite how worn out I feel. I clamp my eyes shut, silently pleading for sleep to take over and rescue me from this awkward tension.
One sheep, two sheep, three… Counting only seems to make things worse. Instead of relaxing, my wolf grows more alert, as if she expects to hunt down these imaginary creatures. My hand drifts to my abdomen, where the
small swell of my growing pup rests.
After what feels like endless tossing and shifting, the edge of sleep finally
begins to pull at me. Slowly, my body loosens, and the heaviness of
slumber starts to settle in.
In my dream, I’m suddenly back at the territorial gathering from several
months ago. Dazzling lights momentarily blind me. The mingled scents of
various packs assault my senses. The undercurrent of politics plays out in
every polite exchange.
Just like that night, I accept a drink without realizing it’s laced with wolf-
whiskey and moonberry extract–a potent mix that hits werewolves hard.
The dream mimics the real event with eerie precision. I feel the creeping discomfort as the concoction takes hold. I search frantically for Alarion
12.27
27.44%
<Chapter 55 Nightmare
Get 10>
Menu
amid the crowd. My attempts to call him go unanswered as the heat inside
me intensifies.
“Are you okay?” a pack healer asks, her face lined with concern. “You’re looking flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I respond, repeating what I’d said back then. “I just need to find
my mate.”
My hands tremble as I dial Alarion again, the phone ringing endlessly
without reply. Anxiety swells in my chest, blending with the unnatural
warmth spreading through me.
Through the fog of intoxication, Alarion is the only one I trust to ground me.
My wolf paces restlessly beneath the surface, her senses muddled and
heightened by the moonberry’s effects.
Just like it had occurred in real life, a figure emerges from the indistinct
crowd of faces. In the dream, it’s Alarion–his features attractive, familiar,
and comforting.
“You came,” I breathe, overwhelmed with relief as I wrap my arms tightly
around his neck.
Driven by the mixture pulsing through my veins, I kiss him without thinking.
He immediately goes stiff, his hands landing on my shoulders to gently
push me back.
“Aelira, stop. You need to know who I truly am,” he says, his voice sounding
strangely unlike Alarion’s usual tone.
But I’m caught in the intensity of the moment, my wolf unusually bold
12:27
27-52
<Chapter 55 Nightmare
Get 10 >
Menu
under the influence of moonberry. All I can focus on is my desperate
craving for reassurance.
“Don’t go,” I murmur, leaning in, my fingers threading into his hair.
After a brief hesitation, he kisses me back with a sudden passion that sends jolts through me. His commanding Alpha scent surrounds me- recognizable, yet not quite Alarion’s. His hands grip my waist, lifting me easily and pressing me against the wall. My legs wrap around him on
instinct as he holds me close.
The heat between us escalates quickly, his lips searing a path down my
neck while I struggle to catch my breath. Every movement is confident and
practiced, a stark contrast to Alarion’s usual tentative touch. Wherever his fingers go, my skin ignites under their trail.
In the murky logic of dreams, we’re suddenly in a bathroom. He pins me
against the sink, his silver–gray eyes blazing with desire as they lock onto
mine.
Silver–gray. Not Alarion’s amber.
I jolt awake with a sharp breath, my heart pounding wildly in my chest like it’s trying to escape. Dazed, I blink several times, the weak moonlight spilling through the window disorienting me further. My nightclothes cling to my damp skin, soaked with sweat.
A movement in the room draws my attention. Daelor stands near the bed,
watching me with an unreadable expression. His tall silhouette is outlined by the moonlight, bare chest catching the glow. The resemblance to the dream figure makes my heartbeat spike even more.
1227
27.59%
< Chapter 55 Nightmare
Get 10%
Menu
“Bad dream?” he asks softly, his deep voice causing a shiver to travel down
my spine.
I yank the covers up to my chin, suddenly self–conscious about my tangled
hair and flushed face. Embarrassment burns through me as the dream’s
images–shamefully vivid―linger.
“N–no,” I croak out, throat dry. “Just a dream.”
He steps closer and sits on the bed’s edge. The mattress dips beneath his
weight, shortening the distance between us–far too much after what I just
dreamed.
“You were tossing and turning,” he notes, voice casual. “Saying things too.”
A cold wave of dread crashes over me. “I was talking? What did I say?” My
voice shoots up in pitch, panic lacing each word.
Daelor’s lips twitch into a faint smirk, his silver–gray eyes glinting in the
moonlight. “Nothing that made sense. Just noises.”
He leans in slightly, studying the color rising in my cheeks with a look so focused it makes my skin prickle. “Were you dreaming about me, little
wolf?”
The teasing hits too close to reality. I scramble out of bed, nearly tangling my feet in the sheets in my rush to put space between us.
“I need the bathroom,” I mumble, fleeing to the adjoining room like prey
sensing danger.
Once inside and secure, I press my back against the shut door, my chest still heaving with rapid, unsteady breaths. What is happening to me?
12.28
2768
<Chapter 55 Nightmare
Get 10?
Menu
Dreaming of Daelor while carrying Alarion’s child is unforgivable. The guilt
scorches through me like an open flame.
I splash cold water over my face, hoping to cool the heat still clinging to my
skin and clear my clouded thoughts. But being in the bathroom only
sharpens the memory–especially the vivid image of Daelor pinning me
against this very sink.
“Get a grip,” I mutter sharply at my reflection, locking eyes with the
shocked, wide–eyed woman staring back. “It was only a dream. It doesn’t
mean a thing.”
Inside me, my wolf shifts restlessly, unsettled by the swirl of emotions. The pregnancy has made her more alert, more attuned to anything that feels like a threat or a shift. Daelor’s commanding Alpha presence is undeniably
a disruption.
I inhale deeply, again and again, trying to calm the erratic rhythm of my heartbeat. It must be the strange surroundings, I tell myself. The strain of
playing the role of Daelor’s future mate when we barely know each other.
Hormones from the pregnancy are messing with my sleep.
That’s all it is. It has to be.
A gentle knock at the door startles me, and I nearly lose my footing on the
damp tile.
“Aelira?” Daelor’s voice filters in from the hallway. “Grandmother is waiting
for us. It’s time for breakfast.”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I reply, hastily throwing more cold water on my face
to mask the emotional storm raging inside.
After brushing my teeth and trying–unsuccessfully–to smooth my tousled
hair with shaky hands, I open the door. Daelor stands nearby, relaxed
against the window frame. He’s wearing a deep blue shirt that highlights his broad shoulders, the top buttons casually undone.
He glances over with a teasing smile. His eyes, like liquid silver, sparkle in the soft morning light.
“Did you sleep all right?” he asks with feigned innocence. “Any dreams your
want to share?”
